


Rules Are Rules

by Thoughts Like A Minefield (Incog_Ninja)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester Bears the Mark of Cain, F/M, Rough Sex, Shower Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-06-24 20:01:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19730773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incog_Ninja/pseuds/Thoughts%20Like%20A%20Minefield
Summary: PROMPT: For your 500+ celebration. I think someone needs to help Dean with his shower.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AdoptDontShopPets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdoptDontShopPets/gifts).



There was a lot of blood. Thankfully, most of it was not ours. Still, we had to clean up and get some rest. This was a physically and mentally challenging hunt - not that they ever aren’t, but Dean had not quite been himself lately. The Mark had seen to that.

Sam hit the showers first. Dean and I were starving, so we made a beeline for the leftover pizza in the fridge. I decided to spend the night at the bunker instead of driving the rest of the way home with only myself to keep me from falling asleep at the wheel. Sam, fresh from his shower, showed me a room where I could lay my head for the night and handed me a clean towel. I was grateful.

Maybe we should’ve discussed it, maybe it was fate - Dean and I seemed to fall into a rhythm lately, ending up at the same place, same time kind of thing - but when I walked into the shower room, there he was in all his natural glory.

Steam coiled around his perfectly made body. He was a work of art, war-torn, heart cracked, soul shredded, and the story was scrawled across his scarred and battered skin.

Rivulets of water ran the valleys and hills of his back and the curve of his muscled ass and thighs. I was breathless and staring when he finally turned away from the wall.

For moments we just held each other’s gaze. Then, just as we broke eye contact and my eyes traveled the equally stunning front of his torso, he gripped his hardening length in his hand and pumped.

I dropped my towel aside and rapidly rid myself of my boots and clothes; all the while, Dean watched me, stern expression and fist working his cock. Once I was bare, I hesitated for only a second before he finally beckoned me in.

“C’mere,” he said, running the hand that he had used to pump himself fully erect slowly through his wet hair.

His voice seemed lower somehow. The tone sent electricity skittering over my skin. I obeyed.

Then he was kissing me, spinning me until I was under the spray of water. He ran his knuckles over the curve of my cheek then flattened his hand over my collarbone, wrapped his fingers around my throat, combed his other hand through my hair as the shower made it wet.

“I’m gonna fuck you,” he said against my lips. “Hard.”

It wasn’t a question, but I knew that he needed my acquiescence. There was no question that I wanted it; I nodded affirmatively. Same place, same time rule and all that.

He spun me away from him, then, and pushed my cheek against the wall. My hands splayed wide and my breasts pressed against the cool tile.

“This ass,” he murmured, slipping his hand between my legs, pushing two fingers inside my cunt, twisting to smooth all the way inside and around. As he languidly fucked me with his fingers, his other hand, slid down my waist to my hips and to my ass cheek. He squeezed then smacked that cheek, and I moaned.

“You on anything?” he asked, pushing a third finger inside me. “‘Coz I’m not waiting for a fucking condom to fuck you.”

I nodded, silent and wanting, arching my back and blossoming under an even sharper smack to my other ass cheek. “Could spank this ass red, fuck you into the floor,” he said.

My breath caught in my throat and my body shook.

“You want that?” he asked, nuzzling into my neck, pulling his fingers out, gripping my hips and simply shoving inside in one, long hard push.

He crouched behind me, using the power of his thighs to fuck into me and the strength of his arms to pull me onto him. He was so fully and thoroughly fucking me that my toes were barely touching the wet ground.

“Wanna feel you come on my dick,” he grunted. 

I slid one hand from the wall, my cheek grinding into the tile with every hard drive of his hips, and dropped my hand between my legs. I pressed on the flesh that hugged my battered clit, rotated, pushed again, and I was coming.

I came long and hard as he railed and roared into me.

“Fuck, yes,” he grit his teeth, punctuating his declaration with two final, hard thrusts before spilling inside me. He was out of breath as I was as he set my feet on the ground.

“Be careful,” he said, dragging a gentle hand over my hip as he pulled out and stepped away to get back under the shower.

I turned and leaned against the wall, watching as he finished his shower, then without a word, pulled me in with him. He washed my hair and lathered my entire body, between my fingers, legs, and toes, then made sure I was rinsed clean. He remained silent as he dried ran a towel carelessly over his wet head, wrapped it around his waist then set about drying me from head to toe.

As he was wrapping me in my own towel, he looked down at me. “You’re stayin’ in my room tonight,” he said, then dipped his head in for a kiss.

I couldn’t argue. Our rule strictly prohibited me to do so.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: this began as a flashfic prompted by @adoptdontshoppets She then generously donated to FREE FAITH and requested an extension, and I gladly obliged!

Walking into Dean’s room was a surprise. It was… tidy. The walls were decorated – with weaponry but decorated, nonetheless.

He closed the door and was on me without a moment’s notice. His arm wrapped around my waist and he pushed my clothes and boots from my hands to the floor as he nipped at my jaw and kissed his way down my neck, over that band of muscle. I was shivering.

Without a word, he turned me to face him, buried his hand in the back of my wet hair, twined his fingers in it, pulled just tight enough to break my skin into goosebumps. As he ducked in to kiss me, he pulled the damp towel from my body, let it drop to the floor then wrapped his hand around my throat.

He took my mouth wholly, warm, wet but not at all sloppy. Thus far Dean Winchester was proving to be as skilled in the art of working a woman’s body as he was in the battlefield wielding weapons.

He cupped my breasts, brushed his thumbs over each nipple. The act was almost gentle but the look in his eyes was hard. “Use your words,” he said. “’Coz I don’t have a lotta patience tonight, so you better let me know loud and clear if you want me to stop.”

I nodded then shook my head. “I don’t want you to stop,” I managed to breathe the words as he dragged one hand down between my breasts, over my belly, and tucked it between my thighs.

A cruelly edged smirk blessed his beautiful face when his fingers found how wet I was. “No, ya don’t, do ya?” he said, pulling me in until our mouths were once again melding and twisting. His tongue was wicked and demanding.

He cupped my cunt in his big hand, three fingers in deep to the last knuckle. He squeezed, pressed the heel of his hand down over my still sensitive clit, dug the pads of his fingers inside _right on that spot_.

“Ever squirt before?” he asked moving his oral fixation to my breasts, sucking and licking my nipples taut.

I just shook my head, bracing my hands on the stable breadth of his smooth and scarred shoulders.

“Good,” he said, stopping everything he was doing then pushing me backward, his fingertips tapping into my breastbone hard enough to knock me off my feet to land on the bed. “I like bein’ the first.” He hunched over and began to crawl onto the bed, and I scrambled up toward the head of the bed, the pillows. “I like bein’ the best,” he continued, gripping an ankle and yanking me flat to my back, pushing me open.

He caged me in, wrapped steel roped arms around my thighs, kept me open for access with his shoulders as his hands wandered, grasping a breast, palming the lower curve of my belly, his fingers opening the puffy wet lips of my cunt. Before he dropped his face to mouth me into insanity, his eyes flicked up and that inflexible, greedy, starved look – the one I will never forget to this day – rivetted me into place.

I was his and nothing else.

Dean spent more than 15-minutes down there, sucking and licking my clit, fingering and fucking my hole with his tongue. He teased that spot, ramping up the intensity, over and over as if that was his only goal.

When romance novels say things about feeling on fire or aflame, they must be talking about Dean Winchester fingering their g-spot because I had never felt anything so hot and dangerous in my life.

“Dean,” I gasped, writhing, tearing at my damp hair. I was certain that I didn’t want him to stop; it felt too good, too much, fucking overwhelming. I was also uncertain of what the result would be. It was all surreal, sharp-edged, and so unfamiliar.

“I’ve never,” I started, blinking down at him as he looked up, mouth wet and grinning, fingers working hard inside me, his thick wrist, twisting as he licked his lips.

“You’re gonna come wet and hard now, sweetheart.” He kissed the damp apex between one thigh and my cunt never taking his eyes off me. “Just keep your eyes on the prize and let it happen – I got ya.”

I saw white spot then black, Dean faded from view, and I felt my body let go of everything – control, containment, that coil deep inside that’s always lurking. I just let go like he said.

In the distance, I could hear him laughing. I could feel him licking my wet skin then rising and settling my wobbly legs over his thighs as he wedged himself in.

“That was so good, baby,” he said. “Gonna fuck you again – good and hard, just like you deserve.”

Dean gripped my ribcage with bruising strength and slid right inside “You’re a mess, baby doll,” he said with a smile in his voice.

My eyes regained focus. He was kneeling, fucking into me, pulling me onto him. I felt the groan rip from my chest because he wouldn’t stop hitting that spot – the same one that had made me such a mess.

“Play with your tits for me,” he said, never faltering. I was on fucking fire all over again. “Show me what you like. You like it rough. Show me.”

I tried to catch my breath, tried to open my legs wider, tried to pull my nipples tighter, but nothing could distract me from his hammering. “Fuck, I’m gonna come,” I whispered.

“That’s right, come all over my dick, squeeze it tight, princess,” he seethed.

And I did. I bucked and wailed. This time I didn’t ejaculate, but it hurt so well – just as well as before.

Then Dean slid forward, my legs sliding up over his shoulders. He gripped the headboard and set a new pace. He was so deep – so, so deep – I’d never felt anyone that deep before. His pace quickened, his thrusts were more brutal, the sounds coming from his chest and mouth were animalistic.

Suddenly I knew what Trent Reznor was on about – fucking like an animal. I thought it was just a song.

“ _Fuck, fuck, fuck_ ,” he chanted with each deep, rapid thrust, sweat dripping from his chin to my forehead. We were both slick from sweat and cum and want.

I ran my hands up his torso, over his gorgeously scarred chest, his perfect nipples. I at them and he threw his head back on a huff of satisfaction. “Harder,” he said.

I pulled harder and twisted. Dean lowered himself so that I could get my mouth on him. I sucked and licked and bit his nipples so that he was whimpering, pressing my knees wide open into the mattress and jackhammering into me until he started to stutter his movements.

When he came, he collapsed over me, panting and sweating, forearms on either side of my face. And the previously glowing mark inside his right arm was seemingly asleep.

~~~~~~~

After he cleaned us both up, I slept like the dead in Dean Winchester’s bed, in his arms. Turned out he’s a cuddler.

I had heard things about Dean. I had heard he was gruff, brutal, kind of an asshole. I had heard that he was a great lay; the descriptors I recalled were “mind-blowing” and “thorough” and even “generous”.

He woke me up by rolling me to my stomach, licking my cunt and ass until I was crying on yet another orgasm then pushing inside me from behind. He was slow and careful. He swayed his hips and moaned. He reached under me and rubbed at my clit, so I’d come again, pulling him with me.

That wasn’t all though. We talked about The Mark – what it was and wasn’t, how it makes him crave things like violence and sex. I felt like he was leaving something out, but far be it for me to ask questions of a man who’d given me more in 8-hours than all the men in my life combined in my 35-years on this earth.

He made me breakfast. Sam showed up and said good morning and grabbed some coffee. It appeared that he’d been for a run.

When my belly was full of eggs and bacon and coffee and Dean had prepared an extra thermos for my drive, I headed to the door.

Before walking out, I turned, cupped his cheek and he leaned into my touch – such a conundrum that man who fiercely protects this world and the people he loves with a take no prisoners attitude yet wears his heart on his sleeve.

“See ya ‘round, Winchester,” I said.

And he smiled dreamily, nodded as he leaned in, braced a hand on either side of my head against the door and kissed me good and well. And long. I was out of breath when he finally let me go.

The drive ahead of me was long but I had a thermos full of French Roast and a lot to reminisce. Both for which I had Dean Winchester to thank.


End file.
